Whitefish River for neither ever, nor never

gaze gleams dully as her muzzle twists back at the snap of a twig somewhere on her left, moonlight for a moment catching the silver of her gaze and burning out from her face. she is made still, waiting, until she moves again, claws scraping dully at the crumbling rock near the riverbank. she sinks forward, scraping not with the intent to unearth but to cover up. paw pads pull loose earth and rock together, patting it down; she is careful, methodical.